


fresh flowers & the sun

by writingstudent



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingstudent/pseuds/writingstudent
Summary: Geralt falls in love with you, but you are human. The angsty love story you didn't know you needed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	fresh flowers & the sun

**Author's Note:**

> You can buy me a coffee and support my work at: https://ko-fi.com/writingstudent  
> Accepting commissions - message me on tumblr for more information: https://writingstudent.tumblr.com/

_You looked breathtaking._

The first time Geralt saw you, you had a bouquet of peonies and wildflowers tucked into the intricate braids that adorned your hair, circling around the crown of your head like a nimbus. An angel gracing the world with the tender wrinkles around her smiling eyes. He hadn’t been able to say anything, he remained transfixed, as if some unspoken law forbid him from disturbing you.

_Flowers. You always seemed to have them around you. Even now, they lay with you in your lap, curled slightly in your fingers._

The delicate small embroidery that adorned the cloth you had packed provisions in. He would never leave them there for long, switching packages for the food as soon as he got out of your sight and neatly folding your cloth close to his chest. It would stay there until it was safely returned back to you. Always back to _you_. It was the fresh smell of lavender on his clothes as he rode away from your cottage, which reminded him of the soft evenings and days you had spent together. Even when you were not there, it seemed that you could not leave him alone for you plagued his thoughts and borrowed your way into his heart. 

_No, he didn’t think you would ever truly leave him. Your softly colored skirts, pale pastels, would forever switch in his mind._

You never seemed troubled. No matter how gloomy the day, a serene smile held tightly onto your lips. The winds could be howling in the skies, bright flashes of lightening weaving their web onto the starry sky and you would sigh happily - the flowers were getting watered. 

_Your expression was relaxed, as always. Geralt let himself trace a calloused dinger on your cheekbones, pulling lightly to draw your lips into a fitting smile. You would have wanted to smile._

You seemed otherworldly but you were always human. For the longest time, Geralt had tried to convince the both of you to see logic - there would only be suffering in your love. He would not age. He could not have children. The Witcher was bound to a life with no home or future - a life defined by the present and the past. By having him you would deprive yourself of a future Loving Geralt meant losing so many things that had he been less selfish, he would have never presented you with such a choice. But he wasn’t. He was selfish and greedy and he wanted to finally feel loved to know a home. 

_Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks at the sight of you. It was just you and him. No one else to witness this scene, to remember you. He was so terribly selfish._

He whispered his love to you as the sun and the moon kissed breathlessly behind the milky clouds, a young love about to be pulled apart. You were his moon and he would always chase you. He took fewer hunts, and his adventures were never far for a couple of years. He knew he had to come back. Unlike him, you did not have time to waste. Your gentle smile and the fingers running through his hair told him that you didn’t mind. That you had time. He would choke back sobs to hear that. He could almost forgive some of the poor tormented souls he had met - humans were the monsters they begged for him to hunt for they were truly afraid of time. Time makes you do awfully careless things. 

Your skin was pale even under the warm caress of the spring sun. Your cheeks would never turn rosy again, as they did when you caught him staring and he shamelessly refused to look away. Never - nothing was eternal in life other than death. 

Your womb had gone ripe and had turned sour without producing a babe. The Witcher didn’t see you, but you stole longing glances at the cherubim features of toddlers, fisting their mother’s skirts at the market. Would it have had your eyes? You let yourself picture the rosy skin of a baby, with Geralt’s snowy hair and strong features, staring at you with eyes brightened in wonder. Your eyes. The thought had made you cry 

_No one had ever called you mother, not will speak of you with fondness to their friends and children of their own._

Watching you age had been the hardest thing Geralt had ever done. He wouldn’t leave you, for he had done this. He could not abandon the one soul that jumped ship, leaving their life and destiny for him. Always for him. So he stayed. he watched the soft curve of your back, where he traced his fingers at dusk, grow heavy and concave. Your glowing tight skin gave away slowly, like the petals of a wilting flower, curling slightly in wrinkles that made it seem like all of you were smiling. It was funny, really, how when your time was rushing by you, faster than ever, you only seemed to slow. The bounce in your step faded, and getting out of bed always took longer. 

_Your hair was a soft shade now, almost matching the Witcher’s own locks. The pink peonies in it stood out more than ever, their color seeming a stark contrast against the braids he had just finished. You had always like your hair braided._

The morning you had looked at him with a tired smile both of you watched the sunrise in silent understanding. he had made you your favorite tea, and your eyes watered slightly when he placed the mug on your nightstand with shaky hands. You would always rush, burning your tongue and whining about it. he told you to wait for it to cool down and you giggled lightly, closing your eyes. The tea lay cold in its mug. 

He layers you down in the smaller meadow in which he met you. You were smiling and had braids in your hair. He watched the moon kiss the sun with you, one last time, and saddled his horse. You had left but never was he alone. He was with your flowers and your sun, a handkerchief made of all his food parking. 

You left but his love for you had not. 

_The legend is not true. The world breaks the hearts of witches so many times that it would have been a mercy for them to be born without one._

You were otherworldly and you had finally gone home. 


End file.
